


Deconstruction

by Dark_Sinestra



Series: DS9: Sub-Prime [8]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 18:28:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16372751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Sinestra/pseuds/Dark_Sinestra
Summary: A mysterious assassin visits Deep Space Nine with a mission to eliminate Elim Garak. As details unfold, Odo discovers that things are not what they seem. While he and Garak travel to Cardassian space to find the answer to the mystery, Julian works to secure Garak more rights in their relationship. The theater shifts to the Gamma Quadrant, a doomed mission and a successful rescue party, but not all dangers come from without. Can the relationship survive the subsequent stress, or will it fall apart at the seams?





	Deconstruction

**Author's Note:**

> This story, first posted on LiveJournal Jan 4, 2010, spans “Improbable Cause” and “The Die Is Cast.” It works better as a stand-alone than some of the recent previous ones but still makes the most sense when read in continuity with the rest. At some time during the middle of the story, chronology isn't exact. I made the creative decision to break apart a long conversation between Julian and Sisko for the sake of pacing, but it shouldn't be assumed the conversation lasts the full two hours it takes for Odo and Garak to reach Cardassian space or that any part of it has been skipped during that time. You get to see the whole thing. I will also add that even though no rape takes place during the course of the story, there are some strong non-con elements and discussion about it, so if you find that triggering, it might be a good idea to give this one a pass.

**Part I**  
   
 _Garak  
The Promenade_  
   
Garak hummed cheerfully to himself as he walked to work. Although business was still slow thanks to the Dominion threat that overshadowed everything these days, he couldn't complain. Things between him and Julian had never been better, the two of them closer due to the doctor's recent ordeal with the Lethean. He still hadn't spoken his true heart to the man; however, he had made some efforts to show him that he meant more to him than anyone else in his life.  
   
He passed a Flaxian carrying a small case. The alien made eye contact with him, and he found himself inexplicably on guard. He showed nothing of his suspicion as he finished his walk to his shop, never looking back or changing his pace. It might be nothing, or it might be something more than that. One thing he never did was to ignore his instincts. He turned on the lights, changed around a few displays, and stepped behind his counter. A prompt flashed on his computer. Decrypting it, he read,  _Watch your back. Can't say more. You won't hear from me again._  Sighing to himself, he said softly, “And things were going so well.” There was no time for regrets. If he wanted to survive the next day or so, he had a lot of work to do and a very short amount of time in which to do it.  
   
 _Julian  
Private Quarters_  
   
Julian carefully read over the documentation sent to him by his attorney, making certain he understood the finest minutiae. He didn't want to mess this up or find himself having to revisit the issue down the line because he overlooked some simple detail. Besides, he knew that Commander Sisko would grill him hard as soon as he approached him with his idea. He had to have a good grasp of the legal ramifications or run the risk of coming across as impulsive and childish. It had been so difficult keeping his plans from Garak. He hoped that he would accept his offer, for it wasn't one he intended to make lightly.  
   
Satisfied that things were in order, he left his quarters for work. He had a busy day ahead of him. Rigellian flu was making the rounds. Over half of his staff were out with it. He uncharitably wished that Nurse Decla was, too, but it seemed that she was too bitter a pill even for an alien flu. He didn't think he had ever seen the woman so much as sneeze.  
   
The morning flew by more quickly than he expected, one advantage of being busy. To his irritation, Garak was late for their usual lunch date. He never spoke of it, but it annoyed him at times how little regard the tailor paid to his schedule. He seemed to expect Julian to adapt to his instead. This included their readings of literature. As he recalled, they would be revisiting Julius Caesar. He knew better than to hope that the irascible Cardassian's opinion of the play had changed over time. He could be extraordinarily stubborn and arrogant when it came to comparisons of Terran and Cardassian literature.  
   
“I'm sorry I'm late,” Garak said, strolling up at a leisurely pace. “At least the line isn't long.”  
   
“No, of course it's not, because most people have already ordered their food for lunch time and are in the process of eating it,” Julian said irritably.  
   
“Have I ever told you that you are most unpleasant when you're hungry?” the tailor asked, blinking at him innocently.  
   
“You're not exactly easy to bear when you are, either,” he said, folding his arms. Of course Garak stepped in front of him at the replicator to order first. He often did such things. Julian wondered how much of it was cultural and how much of it was contrariness.  
   
They sat at their table, and he began to eat quickly. He was famished, couldn't afford to take a long lunch, and had no desire to savor the very mediocre food. Garak groused at him about how quickly he ate and of course about the play. He felt his irritation notch up a degree higher. It would do no good to reveal it. Too often the man delighted in it, and once he realized he was under the doctor's skin, he dug in like a persistent tick. He found himself wondering what had gotten into Garak. He was more annoying than usual, and there was something of a slight edge to it that he simply couldn't place.  _As though he's never testy simply because he can be,_  he thought wryly.  
   
His patience ran out more quickly than it usually did. He thought perhaps he might be coming down with the flu. Although he felt fine physically, often his moods were the first things affected by a bout of a bug. Garak was barely halfway through his food. He felt somewhat guilty about leaving him like that, yet work wouldn't wait. The two stood and headed from the Replimat together. Major Kira caught his attention, and he waved the Cardassian ahead of him with the promise of catching up to him later.  
   
 _Garak  
The Promenade_  
   
As he left Julian, he reflected a bit sadly that perhaps he disguised his motives and emotions too well. His lover didn't seem to have noticed anything amiss during lunch. He privately thought he was being particularly inane, downright babbling. Maybe the doctor was too distracted with his work. He had seemed frazzled.  
   
He strolled casually toward the shop doors. It wouldn't do to hesitate or flinch. He could never be sure when Odo was watching or who else might be. He hoped that he had rigged the explosive device properly. Otherwise, he was in for more than ringing ears and superficial injuries. No sooner had he crossed the threshold than he was blinded by a hot, white flash, deafened by a roaring boom, and knocked senseless from the concussive blast, landing over two meters from where he had been standing.  
   
 _Julian  
The Promenade_  
   
He didn't feel as though he had time for Kira's dilemma. If the woman would just pick up a PADD and read sometimes, she ought to be able to figure out some of the things she asked him herself. He was no expert on Yalosians, any more than she was. He simply bothered to do a little research. He carefully hid his irritation. She could spark like dry tinder at just a hint of disrespect.  
   
Quite suddenly, his mind was derailed from its thought train by a loud, violent explosion on the Promenade below him. He and Kira exchanged glances and darted down the stairs into the smoke and the fray. Aliens fled the scene, forcing him to fight his way through them. As soon as he saw the source of the explosion, Garak's shop, he began scanning for the Cardassian, spotting him lying on the floor well outside the blast site being treated by one of the nurses.  
   
He rushed over and looked into dazed blue eyes, taking in all of his injuries at a glance. Thank every power in which he didn't believe, Garak seemed to be all right. He got him speaking to him and got him on his feet. It looked like he took a nasty knock to the temple and had a few cuts and lacerations on his face, neck, and hands. “Let's get you to the infirmary,” he said, supporting him with an arm at his waist. “What happened to you? Do you remember?”  
   
“Doctor,” Garak said, “at this point, you probably know more than I do.”  
   
He somehow doubted that, but he held his tongue, feeling a little guilty about how irritated he had been at lunch. Maybe there had been more to the behavior than he thought. Was it possible Garak saw something like this coming? Who would want him dead right now, and why? He mulled the questions as he began treating the worst of the injuries first. A few minutes later, they were joined by Commander Sisko, Odo, and two security officers. To his horror, instead of opening up and being helpful, Garak launched into one of the worst episodes of prevarication he had ever seen from the man. He was positively aghast at the things coming from his lover's mouth. Exiled for tax evasion? He tried his hardest to catch his attention and glare him into submission, but the Cardassian was having none of it. Worst of all, he tried to continue his ruse after the two left.  
   
Julian sighed. He thought they had made more progress than this. It seemed that as soon as Garak felt threatened, he retreated into some of his very worst habits, and nothing, not even the person who loved him most on the station, could get through to him. He was glad that Odo decided to assign some security guards to keep him safe. How effective could they be if Garak would give no hint as to what was going on or who wanted him dead, though? Maybe he'd be more willing to talk about it in private that night. He hoped so.  
   
 _Garak  
Julian's Private Quarters_  
   
Garak listened silently while Julian berated him. “I can't believe that after everything that has happened today, you wouldn't cooperate with Odo once he finally had a suspect! The man was trying to help you. How can he do that if you won't help yourself? You know, I really should have insisted that you just stay alone in your quarters tonight since you managed to make him angry enough to cancel your security detail. If you're going to insist on going through your life not trusting anyone, apparently including me, how can you expect any of us to be of any help to you at all?”  
   
“My dear, if I went through my life expecting help, I never would've lived as long as I have,” he said reasonably. “Would you please stop pacing? You're going to give me a headache with all that frenetic movement and gesticulation. I get that you're upset. I don't need the demonstration.”  
   
The doctor stopped in mid stride, frowning. “Well, I'm glad at least one of us can be so casual about this. You don't get it, do you? Do you have any idea how frightening it was to see smoke and flames billowing out of your shop and you lying on the ground like that? You're damned lucky you're not dead!”  
   
“I was never worried. I have an excellent physician,” he said lightly. He knew that he was infuriating his lover. There was just no way he intended to show him how truly frightened he was. It would help nothing, only ensure that both of them were nervous wrecks.  
   
Julian tightened his jaw. “Stop trying to turn this into some sort of joke, Garak,” he snapped. “There's nothing remotely amusing about anything that happened today or your cavalier attitude.”  
   
“I assure you I find nothing funny about this situation,” he said more gravely. “It has confirmed a suspicion I've had for some time, however.” He walked slowly over to the star port and gazed outward. Someone out there wanted him dead, several someones, but whose hand was pulling the Flaxian's strings?  
   
“What's that?” Julian asked warily.  
   
“Any tolerance or goodwill most have for me on this station is more an illusion to make you happy than genuine,” he replied.  
   
“That's not fair,” the doctor said heatedly. “I love you, and even I was ready to wring your neck in the infirmary and at Quark's later. Your behavior has been nothing short of outrageous! The Commander and the Constable want to help you.”  
   
“No,” he said more sharply than he intended, turning to pin the doctor with bright, focused intensity. “They do not want to help me, Julian. They want to make sure this station is safe, and they consider me, a victim of this crime, more suspect than the Flaxian Odo took into custody. If you can't see that, you're either being intentionally blind, or you're not nearly as intelligent as I thought you were.” He saw hurt flash in the warm, brown eyes. It was just as well. If he stayed here tonight, he could expose Julian to the same danger he faced. It was time to leave. He turned to head toward the door.  
   
Julian quickly moved to intercept him, both hands to his shoulders. “Where do you think you're going?”  
   
“Back to my quarters,” he snapped. “You said yourself that you regretted inviting me back here for the night.”  
   
He sighed. “Garak, I didn't mean it. I'm just frustrated with you and worried sick about your safety. Please, don't leave.”  
   
“Your concern is appreciated but unnecessary,” he said with cold dignity. “I've kept my own skin intact for over fifty years. I don't need a Starfleet Lieutenant standing between me and whatever is waiting for me out there.” He firmly removed the hands from his shoulders and stepped out the door without looking back. He didn't want to see the hurt confusion that he knew he had put in the man's gaze.  
   
He cautiously returned to his quarters and gave the rooms a very thorough search before settling in a bit. From the manifests Odo had shown him, he knew the Flaxian was scheduled to depart the next day. He also knew that Odo was too stubborn and dogged to let this go. He packed himself a light bag and set it near the door. When Odo went to track the would-be assassin, he planned to go along for the ride. He was just as curious about who was behind this as the rest of them.  
   
He allowed himself a few hours of sleep and then stealthily made his way through the station toward the runabout pad. He felt bad about not telling Julian what he intended. He simply couldn't trust him not to go to one of the others about it out of some misguided sense of concern. This wasn't the first assassination attempt he had survived in his life. The dear young man had no way of knowing his true capabilities, and he hoped for the sake of their relationship that he never had occasion to find out. He easily cracked the entry code for the small craft and settled himself comfortably inside. If he knew Odo, the Constable wouldn't be much longer in arriving.  
   
 _Julian  
Ops_  
   
“Wait a minute. He did what?” Julian whispered the question to Kira.  
   
She frowned. “He sneaked himself onto the Rio Grande so that he could go with Odo to track the Flaxian,” she said. “As soon as the Flaxian engaged his warp drive, the entire ship exploded. That's what they're all talking about in the wardroom now.”  
   
He frowned, too. This was getting stranger by the moment. As he thought back to their argument the night before, he wondered if the provocation hadn't been completely deliberate on Garak's part. He wouldn't put it past him, some misguided attempt to keep him safe and out of the line of fire. Why did it seem that every time he and Garak managed to make real progress in their relationship, something happened to disrupt the growing connection? Whether Garak's motives were strictly self-preservation or less selfish, it amounted to the same thing, shutting him out and handling things in a way that just made things worse with his superiors and the Bajoran government.  
   
He hoped for answers when the meeting ended, but not even Miles would tell him anything. Did they think that because he loved Garak he would compromise his job? He left Ops angry and out of sorts. He half expected that Garak wouldn't meet him for lunch, but he spotted the man waiting for him at their usual table. Instead of going for food, he sat down immediately, arms folded, and glared daggers. “I suppose you have no intention of telling me anything, either.”  
   
“Who is withholding information from you, dear?” Garak asked mildly, taking the chair opposite.  
   
“Everyone! They're acting like I'm a security risk. I can't tell if they're afraid I'll tell you something I'm not supposed to or if they don't want to worry me. Either way, I've had it with being treated like a child. Major Kira is younger than I am. Nobody coddles her or condescends to her, and as for you, I am done with being kept in the dark. Do you understand? From the moment we got involved, I've known there were risks. It's my right to decide if I want to take them or not. Keeping secrets from me doesn't protect me, Elim. It makes the situation more dangerous, because I don't even know what it is I should be watching for!”  
   
Garak sighed. “I suppose you have a point there. The explosion of the Flaxian's ship was caused by a forced neutrino inversion,” he said. At Julian's blank look, he added, “According to Odo, it's a common method the Romulans use to trigger a bomb.”  
   
“The Romulans?” the man frowned. “Why would the Romulans want you dead?”  
   
“That's a very good question,” the tailor responded with a distant, musing look.  
   
Julian studied him closely. “You truly don't know, do you? This isn't more of your game playing.” He tentatively reached across the table and settled his hand atop Garak's, giving a soft squeeze.  
   
Garak's features tightened slightly. “I haven't been playing games,” he hissed. “I take attempts on my life very seriously, Doctor, and I resent that implication.” He withdrew his hand and tucked it into his lap. “You sound just like Commander Sisko.”  
   
At first it hurt to hear that, until he remembered it was a common tactic the tailor used when he felt vulnerable. “I'm going to take that as a compliment,” he said carefully, “because like the Commander, I am concerned with your safety. If we're frustrated with you, it's because we're worried about you, not because we look down on you or your ways. Can't you see that?”  
   
Relenting slightly, Garak patted his hand. “You're a good man,” he said. “As neither of us seems to have an appetite today, why don't you get back to work? I need to go assess the damage to my shop and see what I'm going to need to do to clean it up.”  
   
“All right,” he said reluctantly. “If you need anything, let me know. I'm not far away.”  
   
“I'll do that, my dear,” Garak said with a slight smile.  
   
He watched him walk away with a feeling of foreboding. He didn't have to be an expert on Romulan culture to know that when they wanted someone dead, it was rare for them not to get their way in the end. What could Garak have possibly done to earn such enmity? How much did he really know him if it came down to it? Was it possible their entire relationship was just another role?  _No,_  he thought, refusing to accept that. Garak had given too much evidence that he genuinely cared for him to doubt that. Despite their difficulties, he made the decision to trust at least that.  
   
 _Garak  
Security Office_  
   
After two days of quiet since the bombing, Garak could hardly believe his eyes, scanning down a Cardassian PADD obtained by Odo during a clandestine visit to one of his contacts from the Union. He felt like a Terran child on that odd holiday some of them liked to celebrate who had been given everything he asked for and then some. There was no love lost between him and the five who met their fates on the same day he had been slated to meet his own. His inward chortling threatened to burst out, and his mood wasn't even suppressed by Odo's barbed questioning.  
   
Oh, he had known that sooner or later the changeling would discover the truth, that he blew his own shop up to get him involved. Desperate times called for desperate measures, as the saying went. He hadn't expected such rich results from his costly manipulation. Unfortunately, the common denominator among the six of them was his own father. That thought was enough to take some of the wind out of his sails. If they had been targeted, it was likely Tain had, as well. “May I use your communication system?” he asked Odo suddenly.  
   
Since the security chief was long past accepting his ruse that he was a simple tailor, he took the opportunity to show off a little of what he knew about encrypting communications across subspace. It had been such a very long time since he had been able simply to be himself. It felt good to drop the amiability and playful verbiage and get down to business. He didn't expect to see his mother's face instead of his father's come up on screen. She looked so much older than when last he had seen her. He could tell by the worry in her eyes and voice that something was wrong before she told him that Tain had departed quickly the day before.  
   
There was no question of what he'd do when she asked him to help. He may have been angry with his father, may have felt every bit as hurt and betrayed as Tain claimed to be, but the man was still his father. Despite everything he had done to him, Garak still loved him. He only hoped that he wouldn't be too late. “I'll need a runabout, Constable,” he said, turning to face the changeling.  
   
Odo studied him for several moments. “We'll need a runabout,” he corrected him. “I'm coming with you.”  
   
He didn't know whether to be touched or irritated. In truth, he felt a bit of both. Nodding, he turned to go. “I need to pack. I'll meet you at the Rio Grande shortly.”  
   
 _Julian  
Commander Sisko's Office_  
   
He could hardly believe that Garak had left the station. They hadn't even had time for much of a proper good-bye. He read urgency in every line of his lover's face, knew better than to question him closely or delay him. Despite the last minute attempted humor, he didn't feel good about what was happening, and he didn't believe for one moment that Garak did, either. It was very small comfort to know that Odo was along for the ride. He didn't completely trust the security chief to look out for Garak's best interests if he was given a reason to believe Garak was up to something.  
   
The Cardassian hadn't made his current task any easier. Sisko was less inclined than usual to be charitable or tolerant when it came to the tailor. He could tell by the man's no-nonsense expression that he wouldn't give him much leeway in the upcoming discussion. Sighing to himself, he offered the PADD across Sisko's desk. “I appreciate your agreeing to see me at short notice,” he said, waiting to take his seat until the Commander did so. “I've been wanting to do this for some time now, but I didn't want Garak to know, at least not yet. With him gone from the station, it seemed like a good opportunity.”  
   
The Commander held a hand up to quiet him as he gave his full attention to the PADD. Julian tried to sit quietly without fidgeting, feeling like nothing more than an errant school boy seated before his headmaster and wondering if he were about to be assigned to detention. He had poured over the legal document again and again and almost driven his attorney to distraction with his detailed questions.  
   
Lifting his gaze and leaning back in his seat, Sisko tossed the PADD onto his desktop. “Are you out of your mind, Doctor?” he asked, pinning him with the full weight of his dark brown glare.  
   
Julian sat up straighter, lifting his chin. “No Sir,” he said, fighting to keep any trace of defensiveness out of his voice. “I've given this long and careful consideration. My attorney assures me that it is not in violation of Federation law or Starfleet policy, even if it is extremely unusual.”  
   
“Extremely unusual is understatement,” Sisko said. “You're proposing turning over power of attorney, the ability to decide if you live or die in an emergency, to a man we know almost nothing about, who blew up his own shop on this station to manipulate Constable Odo into undertaking an investigation, and who as we speak is heading off on a mission to check on the welfare of the ex head of the Obsidian Order!”  
   
The doctor blanched. Garak hadn't filled him in on those last two details, and he hadn't asked. There was nothing to do now but to press forward. “Yes Sir,” he said stiffly.  
   
Sisko sighed heavily, lifting his baseball from its stand and turning it in one hand. “Why, Doctor? Do you realize what a move like this will look like to Starfleet? Hell man, do you realize what it looks like to me?”  
   
He forced himself to meet that angry glare. Sisko wasn't his father. This wasn't about gaining or losing approval. He reminded himself of that as he answered. “With all due respect, Sir, I don't care what it looks like. I'm doing this because I don't ever want him to have to go through what he went through when I was unconscious again. Frankly, when it comes to such a situation, I'm inclined more to trust his judgment than that of a Bajoran nurse who doesn't much like either of us.”  
   
The Commander made a small sound of irritation. “That was unfortunate, yes,” he agreed. “But what you're talking about extends well beyond such circumstances. Not only will he have life or death decision making abilities for you, he'll be in full control of your assets should you ever become incapacitated.”  
   
“Commander, he's not a Ferengi,” he said, feeling irritated at the implication. “Whatever you can say about him, you can't believe he'd rob me blind.”  
   
“Until today, I wouldn't have believed he could blow up his own shop and pin it on a Flaxian,” he said pointedly.  
   
Julian scoffed. “You've never trusted him. Let's not quibble over details. I'm asking you to look over that document and grant me permission to file it in Federation legal archives. Just because you don't trust Garak isn't a good enough reason for you to refuse me. If you do, I'll file an official protest.”  
   
“Let's get one thing straight,” Sisko said, leaning forward. “I don't take kindly to threats. If you expect me to stick my neck out for you over something this outrageous, you're going to have to answer some questions. I can promise you they're questions that Admiral Nechayev will be asking me when this comes across her desk.”  
   
“Ask,” the doctor said with an abrupt gesture. He had known this wasn't going to be an easy sell. He was prepared to do whatever it took.  
   
 _Garak  
USS Rio Grande_  
   
He'd never tell Odo, but the time they were spending together on their way toward Tain's safe house was more enjoyable than most conversations he had had for a very long time. With his civilian pretense stripped away, they could engage on a level more suitable to both of their intellects and observational skills. The changeling thrust very close to the truth with his observations about his emotional attachment to Tain, and he in turn jabbed at Odo's facade of unconcern when it came to the solids around him. He suspected more than just a little that the Constable had feelings for Major Kira. He wasn't ready to play that hand, however. Part of the most skillfully played games involved knowing when to keep things close to the vest. It was an entertaining way to while away the time and distract himself from his worry for his father's safety.  
   
After a little over two hours, they neared their goal within Cardassian space, then everything stopped making sense altogether. A Romulan Warbird decloaked and tractored them in. He was certain that the two of them were in for a most unpleasant time, only to find himself escorted into the presence of Tain himself looking healthy, if much thicker than he remembered him, and very satisfied with himself.  _Of course,_  he thought bitterly.  _The Romulans didn't want me dead. He did, but why?_  
   
He had no choice but to play this new game on Tain's terms, thrusting and counter thrusting for every scrap of information he could glean. Odo impatiently watched the two of them, obviously not impressed. He didn't expect the blunt as a hammer security chief to understand the nuances of Cardassian maneuvering, but even he found himself feeling impatient with the lengths to which he had to go to uncover the mystery of his assassination attempt and what business the Romulans had in Cardassian space.  
   
The more he heard, the more alarmed he felt. Tain and his new associates in the Tal Shiar actually believed they had a chance to take the Founders of the Dominion by surprise and eradicate the lot of them? He didn't dare to show Odo that he found himself in agreement with his position that this was a rash action not to be undertaken at any cost. How was it possible that Tain was willing to trust some of his worst and most implacable enemies now?  
   
Even if he could take his father's offer to allow him to leave unscathed at face value, something he strongly doubted, where would that leave Tain? Every instinct screamed at him to leave and cut his losses, the same instincts that screamed that the Romulans couldn't be trusted for an instant and that Tain was in terrible danger, just too proud and set in his ways to realize it. Over Odo's sensible objections, he accepted Tain's offer to join him and return to the fold. Perhaps if he remained at his side, he could be of some use when things went badly, as he believed they inevitably would. He realized that in this act, he couldn't afford to blink or flinch, not for a split second. If his father wasn't the one to realize his true motives, the Romulans would be, and they just might kill him for it.  
   
 _Julian  
Commander Sisko's Office_  
   
Sisko steepled his hands before him and let his index fingers tap at his chin. “This relationship of yours,” he said slowly, “who started it, you or Garak?”  
   
“I did,” Julian answered. He felt a little offended at the Commander's look of surprise. “I imagine you expected to hear differently,” he continued, “a tale of an older man taking advantage of a young officer's naïve fascination with his air of mystique. While I won't deny that Garak has held a certain fascination for me from the beginning, that wasn't why I decided to take our friendship to a deeper level.”  
   
“Why did you?” Sisko asked.  
   
Julian flushed slightly. He wasn't about to tell his commanding officer that it started thanks to an erotic dream. “I just realized one day that I saw him in a different light, and I acted on that interest. Is that any different than it is for most people?” he asked.  
   
“No, I suppose not,” the Commander conceded. “Have you had many relationships with men in the past?”  
   
“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked hotly.  
   
Sisko held up a hand. “As you were, Doctor. Starfleet brass is going to look for any excuse they can find to dissect your association with Mr. Garak. If this is unusual behavior for you, they're going to find it suspect. They may even decide that your loyalty to the Federation has been compromised.”  
   
He sighed and said, “It is unusual for me. Then again, so is any sort of sustained relationship. Before Garak, I had only one other I was truly in love with, a ballerina in Paris. I've dated a few aliens since my assignment and before Garak and I got involved, no Cardassians, obviously. Commander, I didn't fall in love with a sex or a race. I fell in love with a person. Why is that so hard to understand?” His eyes flashed. “We wouldn't be having this conversation at all if I were making this same request with a Bajoran in mind.”  
   
“We've never been at war with the Bajorans,” Sisko said plainly.  
   
“And we're not at war with the Cardassians now, any more than we are with the Klingons. In fact, we have a treaty with Cardassia, as I recall.”  
   
“You're serious about this relationship?”  
   
“You wouldn't have that legal document in front of you if I wasn't,” he answered, feeling his patience slipping.  
   
“Have you discussed it with your parents?” he asked.  
   
He had had enough. He stood abruptly. “I'm sorry, Commander, but that...all of this...really isn't any of your business. If Starfleet wants to find it unusual that I haven't invited my parents to Deep Space Nine to meet the man I'm in love with, then they are more than welcome to contact my parents and ask them what we  _have_  discussed in the past decade or so. My request is legal. It's well reasoned, and it's not due to some manipulation on Garak's part. Garak has nothing to gain from power of attorney over me or my assets except one thing and one thing only, the right to see me and be at my side in time of an emergency, the same right that any lover ought to be able to expect in time of crisis. Since we can't get married, this is the next best thing. It protects me as much as it does him from unscrupulous prejudices.”  
   
Sisko eyed him oddly for some long moments. “You'd marry him if you could?”  
   
“It's not possible, so it's not something we've ever even discussed,” he answered tightly.  
   
“Sit down, Doctor,” Sisko said in a gentler tone of voice. “I'm done with the questions, but I want to say something to you as your friend, not your commanding officer, before you leave and I forward this to Admiral Nechayev with my permission for you to file.”  
   
Feeling wary, he did so, his back straight and both feet planted firmly on the floor. “What?”  
   
“What you're doing will definitely prevent another incident like the one you had with Nurse Decla. That much is true. Have you considered what it will do to your career? You and I both know that the peace we have with Cardassia is tenuous at best. Tensions along the DMZ are rising every day. This whole conflict with the Maquis could explode in all of our faces before all is said and done. You will be the only Starfleet officer in history to have an enemy of the Federation with legal power over you. In fact this document might not even survive a legal challenge should that event arise.”  
   
“I've considered all of that. I know how I'll be viewed. In some ways, I already am viewed that way here. I'm very aware of it and of how much many of the Bajorans resent me as a by-product of resenting Garak. If you were in my position, Sir, would you allow those concerns to get in the way of protecting the person you love? Can you sit there and tell me honestly that you'd behave any differently?”  
   
He knew he had him then. The last of his resistance fled, leaving only concern and resignation in its place. “No, Doctor, I can't tell you that. I just wish that for once, I could talk someone into being more reasoned and intelligent than I would be in their place.” He smiled slightly. “You can file this first thing in the morning. Was there anything else you needed?”  
   
Julian shook his head. “No. Thank you, Commander. I appreciate your time, and I won't be filing this until Garak returns and I know he's willing to accept the responsibility.” He left the office with mixed feelings, relief at having made his case, worry that he might be making a mistake, but most of all fear that Garak might not even make it back in one piece to take on the role he hoped that he would accept. The unexpected news that he had left out of concern for Tain's safety didn't sit well with him at all, not after he had seen the active malice in the old Cardassian's eyes in regard to his Elim.

**Part II**

_Garak  
Romulan Warbird_  
   
As he sat and drank with Tain, Garak gave long, hard thought to the situation. He could see no way out that would preserve his, Tain's, and Odo's safety. While he could understand his father's reasoning, he felt that the action itself seemed ill considered, rushed even. Had the old man always been so pedantic and tiresome? All of this rehashing of old times, talking of the so-called glory days, left him cold. Things were forever altered between them. No matter what Tain said, there really wasn't much chance of going back. The entire Alpha Quadrant was different from his early days in the order. So much of what they took for granted then no longer even existed. Like it or not, the Union was in a state of decline. He couldn't help but to believe that this operation would hasten that.  
   
From the moment he met Colonel Lovok, a Romulan with a stiff demeanor and no sense whatsoever of subtlety, his anxiety ratcheted. How could Tain allow such a snake at his back? He listened in dismay as they discussed the necessity of questioning Odo. It was ridiculous, of course. He could ask all day long, and the shape shifter wouldn't have to tell him a thing. What could he do to him, badger and bore him out of his mind? He did as Tain requested, however, not at all surprised to find Odo completely uncooperative and irritable. He'd feel exactly the same in his place. He left Odo to his confinement, hoping to get a moment alone with his father so that he could try to talk some sense into him.  
   
 _Julian  
USS Defiant_  
   
Ever since listening to that intercepted message from Enabran Tain to the Cardassian Central Command, Julian had been knotted with anxiety and a degree of guilt, anxiety for Garak's and Odo's safety, and guilt that his concern for Garak greatly outweighed that which he felt for Odo. Theoretically, the Constable was in far worse danger. That didn't take into account Tain's personal malice.  
   
He was glad to be included on this rescue mission, despite the fact that it was only on behalf of Odo as far as Commander Sisko and the others were concerned. He could tell they were ready and willing to believe the absolute worst of Garak, that it was possible he had even known about the operation and deliberately lured Odo along with him so that the Obsidian Order and the Tal Shiar could have a Founder as a prisoner or a bargaining chip. They were wise enough not to openly state such suspicions in his presence.  
   
He would gladly face court martial or worse if it meant that he could help to save Garak's life. While he double checked the supplies in the Defiant's woefully inadequate med lab, the ship inexplicably dropped out of cloak. Frowning, he closed the case of hyposprays and hurried toward the bridge in case they needed him. This deep into Dominion space, an uncloaked Federation ship was basically a sitting duck for the Jem'Hadar.  
   
 _Garak  
Romulan Warbird_  
   
He thought that his old skills would return to him, his sense of detachment and professionalism that served him so well during his decades as one of the Obsidian Order's top interrogators and assassins. Sentiment had never gotten in his way of doing what needed to be done. However, watching the gruesome effect that the Obsidian Order's prototype quantum field stabilizer had on Odo sickened him. Parts of the man flaked away and drifted to the floor as though he were desiccating from the inside out. Garak had believed that Odo would be safer with him interrogating him rather than the Romulans, and he knew that Tain would never trust him if he shied away from this newest assignment. He wished that Odo had been more cooperative the first time he had come to talk to him.  
   
The changeling sensed his desperation and taunted him despite being in extremis. Was Odo truly going to force him to let him die? It didn't matter anymore what information he obtained as long as it was something. He resorted to something he never thought he'd do, begging, and at last, as Odo collapsed to the floor trembling like a leaf in autumn, he obtained what he wanted from him, true confession. “Home,” the shape shifter whispered, “I want to go home.”  
   
Oh, there was so much in that terrible moment of intimacy that followed, words exchanged that he could understand and relate to, a man apart from his people, from his natural state of existence, isolated and longing within the depths of his being to return. Garak deactivated the device and turned away to give him privacy, only to sink into his chair with his head in his hands once Odo was insensate liquid. What had he become? He had been away from his own home for so long that if he returned, he would no longer belong there. He knew it in his heart of hearts. An interrogator never empathized with his subject. A perfect servant of the state followed orders without pity for the glory and betterment of the Union. Once he had been that servant. Now? Now he was pathetic, shaking in his guts from what he had witnessed and been party to. The Starfleeters had succeeded in their subversive tactics, diminished him from the Cardassian he had been to this...this thing for which he had no name, only contempt.  
   
He pinched at the bridge of his nose until he could be sure he'd shed no tears and stood. He may not be Tain's perfect son any longer. It didn't mean he didn't intend to escape this situation alive and intact and if at all possible ensure the same outcome for Odo and his father. By the time he faced Tain and Lovok again, he believed that his flawless mask was in place. He'd see this through to the bitter end.  
   
 _Julian  
USS Defiant_  
   
They dropped out of warp near the Omarion Nebula to a scene of unbelievable carnage, too many Jem'Hadar ships to count on sight systematically obliterating the Cardassian Keldon cruisers and Romulan Warbirds. Fiery explosions filled the view screen, and large, jagged pieces of hulls drifted aimlessly, wide open to space. “Commander, I have the Rio Grande on sensors,” Kira said tautly. “She's being pursued by two Jem'Hadar ships, and her shield integrity is starting to collapse.”  
   
“Fire at will,” Sisko said. Their phasers quickly dispatched the two ships in pursuit, but three more wheeled about to take their place.  
   
“Two life signs on the runabout, Commander,” Dax said.  
   
Julian ran from the bridge to the transporter pad where O'Brien stood by. They dropped shields only long enough to beam Odo and Garak onto the ship. As he stepped forward to check a very nasty contusion on Garak's head, the ship rocked violently, taking fire. He guided Garak to the sick bay and helped to secure him there while the firefight continued. His training kept him on task, tending the wound and checking him for more. Throughout the treatment, the tailor stayed uncharacteristically silent. Julian worried he might be in shock, but a check of his vitals came up normal. “Let's go to the bridge,” he said, “if you believe you're up to it.”  
   
Garak nodded, and they joined up with Odo, Miles, and the rest. There were several more tense moments while they attempted to evade pursuit. They scored a hit with an aft photon torpedo, and the last of their pursuers dropped behind. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as they set a course back for the Alpha Quadrant. Julian took Garak back to sick bay and insisted that he lie down and rest for the trip. Worryingly, the Cardassian didn't argue, simply doing as he was told, turning onto his side with his back to the doctor, and not moving again until they reached the station.  
   
He parted company with the doctor for debriefing and to work on his final report for Starfleet. It seemed to Julian that although he was fully aware and conscious, there was some critical part of him simply not engaged with his surroundings. He seemed hollow. Had Tain really been that important to him, or was it others who were there for the operation? He hoped that later that evening, Garak would talk to him about it.  
   
After checking in with the infirmary and working on filing his own report for his part in the rogue rescue mission, he retired to his quarters to get cleaned up and changed into something more comfortable. The relief of having Garak back safe somewhat tempered the stress he had felt during the excursion, but seeing him so disengaged was a whole new worry. He waited what he believed was a reasonable time before trying to contact Garak over the comm. The tailor answered the hail, his face appearing on Julian's screen. “Yes, Doctor?” he asked mildly.  
   
“I was wondering if you could use some company,” he offered, trying to assess the bland expression for signs of stress or grief.  
   
Garak shrugged. “If you wish. I can't guarantee that I'll be good company. I'm quite tired.”  
   
“That's all right,” Julian said. “I'm not expecting a stimulating debate. I just want to spend some time together.”  
   
“All right,” he said, cutting the transmission abruptly.  
   
Frowning slightly, Julian grabbed the PADD that contained some of his most recent medical journal subscriptions, expecting that he might be doing quite a bit of reading that night if Garak proved to be as reticent as the comm conversation indicated. He hurried down the corridors of the habitat rings until he reached the man's quarters, and when he rang, the door opened. He saw Garak standing near his star port, still dressed in the clothing he had been wearing when they beamed him from the runabout. Setting his PADD on the dining table, he approached him. “Didn't you want to change clothes? You have scorch marks, and you smell like smoke.”  
   
The tailor glanced down at his clothing with a look of mild surprise. “I didn't notice,” he said, making no move to do anything about it.  
   
“Elim,” Julian said gently, “come on. Let's get you out of these clothes.”  
   
Garak eyed him a moment and nodded, allowing the guidance of gentle hands to get him moving. The doctor stripped him down and managed to get him to take a shower. While he was in the bathroom, Julian picked out his warmest, softest pajamas for him, a thick robe, a pair of socks, and his slippers. When he heard the shower shut off, he stepped into the bathroom with the clothing. His concern grew by the minute. Never in all their time together would he have used the word passive to describe the older man. If anything, when he had suffered some hurt, he was more likely to be prickly and irritable than to accept tender ministrations or care. However, he allowed Julian to dress him and even comb his hair. “Thank you, dear,” he said absently, following him from the bathroom.  
   
“Of course,” the doctor said. “When is the last time you ate something?”  
   
“Mm? Oh, I ate on board the Romulan ship,” he replied. “I'm not hungry.”  
   
“I'd feel better if you'd eat a little something,” he prompted.  
   
“Replicate me something, then,” he responded. “I don't care what.”  
   
Nodding, Julian left the bedroom and replicated a bowl of zabo stew. He brought it back to the bedroom only to find Garak standing right where he had left him with a mildly bemused expression, as though he had misplaced something and couldn't quite recall where to find it.  _Emotional shock,_  he thought.  _It has to be._  “Sit on the bed, my love. Let's get you covered up, and I'll replicate you a tray for your food.”  
   
Garak nodded, slipping his feet out of the slippers and climbing obediently into the bed when Julian flung back the covers. Tucking him in, Julian set the food aside and did as he had promised, returning and setting him up so that he could eat comfortably. He sat on the side of the bed and watched the rather mechanical way in which Garak fed himself, his look something Julian called the million kilometer stare. He had seen it dozens of times on people in shock from things too horrible for them to process all at once.  
   
When Garak finished, he took the tray away and came back with a mug of red leaf tea in one hand, Tarkalean tea in the other, and his PADD tucked under his arm. “I thought you might like something warm to drink,” he said, setting the tea mugs and PADD on the table by the bedside. “I'll just change into the pj's I have here,” he continued, digging in the wardrobe for the sleep wear. After he changed, he took his tea and the PADD and climbed into bed beside Garak. “Drink some of your tea, Love,” he prompted.  
   
The Cardassian glanced at the mug. “I'm not thirsty. I think I'm going to get some sleep now. Do turn out the light when you're done reading.” He settled down further in the bed and drew the covers all the way up over the top of his head with his back to the doctor.  
   
Julian discovered that he couldn't get much reading done. Eventually, he set aside the PADD and the remains of his tea, told the computer to kill the lights, and settled down beside Garak, wrapping his arm about him and pulling him close. He rested his lips against the evenly scaled back of the man's neck and tucked his knees against the bent backs of the other man's. He drifted to sleep on the soft, even sounds of the tailor's breaths and awoke at some undetermined time to the strangest sound he had ever heard, a nearly inaudible keening that reminded him of the whine of an excited hound. He realized it was coming from Garak. “Elim?” he said, touching the covered curve of his shoulder.  
   
He received no response and realized that Garak was still asleep. The sounds continued, rhythmic, timed with his exhales. He managed to turn the sleeping man and reached for his face, finding his cheeks soaked wet with tears.  _Crying in his sleep,_  he thought with dismay. Afraid to awaken him, he carefully wiped the tears with a corner of the sheet and pulled him into his embrace. Murmuring soft, nonsensical sounds of comfort, he stroked his fingers through the sleek black hair until the noises subsided and the tears stopped flowing. He pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and drifted back to sleep. When he awoke the next morning, he found himself alone in the bed.  
   
Alarmed, he threw the covers back and hurried to the sitting room. “Good morning, Doctor,” Garak said. “Did you sleep well?” He sat fully dressed at his dining table drinking a mug of tea and reading over a PADD.  
   
“Y...yes,” he said, dubious at this display of self-possession after his attitude the night before. “Did you?”  
   
“Quite well. I must thank you for your kindness last night. I was so exhausted I hardly knew my name. I'll be leaving shortly, as I have a breakfast date with Constable Odo. You'll be a dear and lock up for me, won't you?”  
   
“Of course,” he said, nodding. He debated bringing up what had happened in bed last night and decided against it. It probably wouldn't do any good, and it might embarrass the tailor. “At some point soon, I have something important to discuss with you, but it can wait until you've had some time to process what happened.”  
   
“That won't be necessary,” Garak said pleasantly. “Whatever it is we can talk about it tonight if you like.” He stood and took his mug to the recycler.  
   
Julian closed the distance between them and put a hand to his forearm. “You don't have to do this with me,” he said.  
   
“Do what?” Garak asked, tilting his head and looking genuinely puzzled.  
   
“Pretend that everything is fine and that you're ready to just go about your business as though nothing happened. I was there. I saw what the Jem'Hadar ships did to the fleet. I saw what almost happened to you and Odo. Last night you were almost catatonic. Of all the people on this station, I'm the last person from whom you need to hide your pain.”  
   
One corner of the tailor's mouth twitched upward. “You're very kind,” he said, reaching to pat Julian's shoulder, “but this concern of yours is ill placed. As I told you, I was exhausted last night. I've had a good night's rest, and I'm ready to get back to work. I have much to do to clean up the shop and get it re-opened. If I stay here any longer, I'm going to be late for my breakfast date. The Constable won't appreciate tardiness.” He leaned in and kissed Julian's cheek. “I'll see you tonight, and you can tell me whatever it is that requires my attention.”  
   
He felt as though he had no choice but to let it go at that. He hoped that after Garak had a little time to process his feelings, he would change his mind. He knew he'd have to be patient. It wasn't going to be easy.  
   
 _Garak  
Security Office_  
   
After eating breakfast in near silence with Odo seated across from him, Garak asked the Constable if he could once again borrow his communication station to put a call through to Cardassian space to contact Mila. Not only did Odo consent, but he left the office and stood outside the door to ensure that no one would walk in on Garak's conversation.  
   
As soon as Mila's face came on screen, he could tell she already knew. Her eyelids were swollen and puffy, yet her quiet strength showed through. “I'm glad to see you,” she said softly.  
   
“I tried,” he said, his voice threatening to break. “You have to believe that. I never could get him to do anything he didn't want.”  
   
“I know that,” she scoffed gently. “Neither you nor I. Enabran never listened to a soul except himself. How are you?”  
   
“As well as you might expect,” he answered.  
   
“That's what I was afraid of,” she said, her gaze softening.  
   
“Please, don't,” he said more harshly. “I can't take it right now. I'm...” He paused and took a deep breath to bring himself more firmly under control. “I have a lot to do here. He wouldn't appreciate maudlin displays on his behalf anyway.”  
   
“Still trying to please him even now,” she said. “I hope in time you get past that, dear. Your life is your own now. You're going to have to figure out what to do with it.”  
   
“One thing at a time...Mother,” he said quietly. “Will you be all right?”  
   
“I've been provided for well enough. Don't you worry about me,” she said, her blue eyes bright and determined. “You just take good care of yourself, and one of these days perhaps you can make it by to see me. I'd like that.”  
   
“I would, too,” he said, briefly pressing his palm to the screen. “Good-bye for now.”  
   
“Good-bye, son,” she answered, also touching her screen.  
   
He cut the transmission and left the office, thanking Odo for his consideration and heading back to the ruined shop. Cleaning up was exactly the sort of mindless task he needed to put a buffer between crushing grief, fear of what he had learned of himself aboard that ship, and pointless thoughts about the future. It was too soon to make plans. Just because his father was dead didn't mean he'd be allowed to return to Cardassia. There were too many people who hated him, people who had been held at bay by fear of Tain and the Obsidian Order, who would now happily crawl from the woodwork like vermin and try to take a bite out of him. He would have to be more on guard than ever.  
   
He worked well past dinner time, at last recalling that he had promised Julian he would be available for an important discussion. Brushing ash from his hands, he left the shop and headed to his quarters to clean up and change into something that didn't reek of burned textiles and plastics. He found a message waiting for him from the doctor, short and non-intrusive. He smiled faintly, the expression fading quickly. There was no way the human could understand what he was going through or how he needed to process it. He called him to let him know he'd meet him in his quarters soon, took care of his hygiene needs, and strolled over.  
   
When Julian answered the door, he greeted him with a light cheek kiss and allowed him to serve him a late dinner. All he had to do was to take a good look at the doctor's face to tell that he had read his report. He knew that he had tortured Odo, knew everything he had included, except the left out detail about Odo's desire to go home. That was a secret he'd take to his grave. He waited out the doctor's silence. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Julian asked at last.  
   
“Do you?” he turned the question around, setting his napkin aside on the table.  
   
“I don't know,” Julian said tightly. “I...I suppose I never allowed myself to consider the full implications of what it might mean if you had been in the Obsidian Order.”  
   
“And now that you have?” he asked, keeping his blue gaze fixed keenly on the doctor's. It was one of his fears come to life. He determined to face it head on.  
   
“What if Lovok hadn't been a Founder?” he asked.  
   
“Then Odo and I would be as dead as the rest of them,” Garak answered. “You read the reports. You saw the battle. You know that.”  
   
“That's not what I mean. What if...well, what if all of you had managed to escape? Would you have really turned Odo over to the Romulans and gone home with Tain?”  
   
“Yes,” he said simply. “I did what I could to protect Odo from the situation, but I'm no fan of last stands or heroic martyrdom. I could not have faced down an entire crew of a Romulan Warbird to rescue the Constable and escape one hundred and fifty Jem'Hadar attack ships in a runabout. I may be good, my dear, but I'm not that good.”  
   
Julian dropped his gaze to the side, chewing lightly on his lower lip. “No,” he said, “I suppose not. You had the chance to leave at the beginning, and you didn't take it. You didn't abandon Odo.”  
   
 _Still trying to cast me in a heroic light,_  he thought sadly.  _How little you understand me, even after all this time._  “That's true,” he said. “This isn't what you wanted to talk about, though, is it? You hadn't read the reports when you said that to me.”  
   
“No, it's not,” he answered, pushing up from his seat. He lifted a PADD from a small stack of them on his coffee table and brought it over to the tailor. “This is what I wanted to talk about.”  
   
Garak took it in hand and began to read. About halfway through the document, he started shaking his head in disbelief. “Do you have any idea what you're doing?” he asked, lowering the PADD and staring at the young man.  
   
“Now you're the one who sounds like Commander Sisko,” Julian said, forcing a smile.  
   
“Your commander is looking out for you,” he replied, “as is his duty. Julian, don't you understand that this is tantamount to career suicide?”  
   
Julian set his jaw. “I won't have people like Decla trampling all over you if something happens to me. My parents could make the decision to have my funeral somewhere you'd be prevented from setting foot. I could be transferred to a medical facility somewhere that you wouldn't even know how to find. I won't have it, Elim. I won't! I want you to do this, and I don't want you treating me like I'm a five year old. I've given this a lot of thought, and I made certain I consulted an excellent attorney. All I need is your agreement.”  
   
“You'd put your fate and assets in the hands of a former Obsidian Order interrogator?” he asked.  
   
Julian moved to take the PADD from his hands. “I'd put my fate and assets into your hands. If that's what you are, so be it.”  
   
Garak closed his eyes. “You're so stubborn, and you're an idiot. Far be it from me to protect an idiot from himself. You have my agreement. Do you need my signature?”  
   
“Only after it's filed,” he said, bending to kiss him tenderly. “Thank you, my love. This is a huge load off of my mind.”  
   
“When one is out of his mind, how would he notice weight upon it?” Garak retorted. He didn't quite know what to do with this new development. Never would he have expected Julian to take such a drastic step. He knew that were he not fighting his own internal demons and grief tooth and nail, he would be more likely to protest this much more fiercely. He just didn't have the mental energy, and he suspected he would lose the battle anyway.  
   
He helped clean up the dinner dishes and begged off of staying over. He just wanted to be in his own quarters, although he didn't mind when Julian proposed joining him there. The two of them called it an early night, and he fell asleep while the doctor was still reading.  
   
 _Julian  
Garak's Quarters_  
   
That terrible keening awoke Julian for a second time. As before, Garak was too deeply asleep to be awakened easily. He slowly responded to being held and caressed, only this time, the episode repeated twice more in the night. Julian recalled how often he had awakened from nightmare after he had returned from the parallel dimension only to find himself held in strong arms and comforted. He wanted more than anything to awaken Garak and deal with this while he was conscious, but what if he refused? Any release was better than no release, he decided. If Garak's conditioning was such that he couldn't bring himself to grieve openly, then perhaps this was a necessary part of his healing process.  
   
Over a week passed without a single quiet night. By day, the Cardassian was pleasant and unflappable, distantly affectionate as he might be with a fond acquaintance. By night his grief shredded Julian to the point that he dreaded the tailor's falling asleep. This couldn't be healthy, he decided. He had to figure out a way to break through his resistance to dealing with his loss while conscious. It didn't help that aside from when cleaning out his shop, he couldn't get him to leave his quarters, not since that one dinner where he obtained his permission to give him power of attorney.  
   
“Elim,” he said one evening, shortly after the Cardassian arrived home reeking of ash and streaked with grime, “we have to talk. You can't keep on like this. It's bad for you.”  
   
“Doctor,” he said patiently, “my shop isn't going to clean itself. With business the way it had been before this happened, my funds were already starting to dwindle. I can't afford to hire help. Even if I could, my choices are few, most of them undesirable.”  
   
“That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it. I'm talking about Tain and the others, what you experienced. You can't keep acting as though it doesn't matter to you. If you keep something like that bottled inside you, it will eat you from the inside out.”  
   
“You're a doctor, dear, not a psychologist,” he said with a shake of his head. “Even if you were a psychologist, you wouldn't have the first idea about how to treat a Cardassian. I appreciate this concern of yours. I do, but I must reiterate that it is misplaced.”  
   
“Really?” he asked, steeling himself for what he intended to say.  
   
“Yes, really,” he answered. “Now, let me go take a shower, please. I feel positively disgusting.”  
   
“You cry in your sleep,” he said.  
   
Garak stopped in his tracks, turning back toward him slowly. “What did you say?” he asked.  
   
“You heard me. It happens every night, sometimes four or five times in the night. Whatever you say, you are not all right.” His breath caught in his throat at the look of unadulterated rage the tailor directed at him. 

“Why didn't you ever awaken me?” he asked, his voice deceptively soft.  
   
“At first I wasn't entirely sure what was happening. Once I was, I decided that you must need the release. I knew that if I awakened you, you'd pull yourself together and deny there was a problem.”  
   
Garak approached him with the gait of a predatory beast considering the best angle of attack, his blue eyes stranger's eyes. He didn't think he had seen him that angry since the night he was forced by Sisko to accompany him to Cardassia. “You had no right,” he hissed low.  
   
“Elim,” he said, trying to keep his unease from his voice, “how is it any different than all those times you held me when I awoke from nightmares?”  
   
“You were awake,” he said, nearly nose to nose and eye to eye with him. “You had the ability to say yes or no to what comfort I could provide.”  
   
“Do you think it was easy for me, knowing how weak I appeared to you and your exacting standards to allow you to give me the comfort you did?” he asked. “Part of a relationship is give and take.”  
   
“I have never, never  _once,_ asked for you to be anything other than who and what you are for me. If you wanted me to back off, you should have told me so,” he said, his voice slowly rising.  
   
“That's not the point,” he protested.  
   
“Words,” he sneered. “You're always full of them, an excuse for every occasion. How you must have delighted in your secretive observations, seeing me reduced to a reflection of what you wish I were. Who are you to tell me what is or isn't healthy for a Cardassian? What do you even know of it?” His fists balled at his sides.  
   
“I know that if you're crying in your sleep, you're not dealing with your feelings,” he retorted, standing his ground. It was becoming increasingly difficult in the face of that frightening expression.  
   
“You don't have a clue about what I am or how I feel. You have no idea how little of me you see, all because your tender Starfleet sensibilities wouldn't be able to handle the truth. Every day I tolerate insipid conversation, temper every harsh edge. You know I tortured Odo, know I would have left him to the Romulans, and still you try to cast me in a positive light, that I didn't abandon him. I didn't leave that ship because I knew for a fact that Tain would never let me go, not out of concern for the Constable.”  
   
“If that were true, Odo would never have breakfast with you,” he said. “He's one of the best judges of character I've ever met. He knows better.”  
   
Garak took his jaw in a vise-like grip. “He's not infallible,” he said coldly.  
   
“You're hurting me,” Julian said evenly.  
   
“This?” the Cardassian asked, forcing his head back. “This is nothing. You really should learn the difference between discomfort and pain.”  
   
“I know you're trying to push me away, Elim. It's not going to work. I've learned this trick of yours,” he said, having to fight his desire to try to twist out of the painful grip. He felt quite certain that fighting back would be a mistake. In his unstable state, there was no telling exactly what Garak might do. A couple of seconds later, he realized that he couldn't have been more wrong. Before he knew quite what was happening, the tailor had ripped his com badge from his uniform and tossed it across the room. The next that he knew, he found himself slammed face first hard against the wall with his wrists twisted behind him at a sharp angle.  
   
Warm breath hissed across his ear. “Still want me to share my feelings?” Garak whispered in a mocking tone.  
   
“I want you to let me go,” he said, hating that a waver had found its way into his voice. Part of him didn't want to accept what was happening. No matter how angry Garak had been in the past, he hadn't ever hurt him. Well, that wasn't entirely true, but at least that night he could tell that it was as much about frustrated desire and need as rage. This was pure rage.  
   
“I would have told you the same thing every night for the past nine nights had I been awake to do so,” he retorted, giving an extra vicious twist to Julian's arms. “You decided not to give me a choice. I see no reason to give you one.”  
   
“Because if you don't, I'm going to report you for assault,” he said tightly.  
   
He didn't like the ugly sound of the laughter that greeted that announcement. “No,” Garak said. “No, I don't believe that you will.” He felt him shift his wrists to one hand and reach around him to unzip his uniform.  
   
“I will,” he reiterated, struggling to pull his hands free. He no longer bothered to disguise his strength. There was no way he intended to allow this to happen, no matter how upset or confused Garak might be. He worked one wrist free only to find himself abruptly twisted around by his other arm and swung into a bulkhead. Stars exploded in his vision, and his knees buckled. While he tried to shake off his daze, he was flipped to his back, the back of his head striking the floor hard enough to disorient him further. “Garak,” he slurred, “don't do this.” He ineffectively plucked at the hands taking his zipper down the rest of the way.  
   
“I don't understand you,” the tailor's cold voice knifed through his disorientation. “You say I don't have to hide myself from you, yet when I show you the real me, you say no. I have no patience for this indecisiveness of yours.” He dragged the uniform off of him roughly and tossed it aside, reaching to yank him out of his turtle neck.  
   
“This isn't...” he paused, fighting a wave of nausea, “isn't the real you. It's not too late to stop this.” He tried to focus on the gray face drawing closer to his, but his vision was blurred, whether from concussion or tears, he couldn't completely be sure. He felt panic welling in his breast as the implacable hands took him out of his shirt and let him drop back to the floor, naked and vulnerable.  
   
“Isn't it? Doctor, are you not aware that Cardassians are responsible for some of the very worst atrocities in the Alpha Quadrant? You should ask your friend Chief O'Brien, or perhaps even Major Kira. Both of them could tell you tales to chill you and keep you awake at night. Few names were more feared on Cardassia Prime than that of Elim Garak at the height of my activity. I was a Cardassian who put terror in the hearts of the worst of the worst. No one was safe from me or Tain. We had the Central Command by the hair, the Detapa Council, too. I had but to stretch out my hand and squeeze.” He took Julian by the throat and lifted him in his grip, his blue eyes glittering malice.  
   
Tears slid down his cheeks and dripped onto the back of the hand holding him. He desperately wanted to fight, but his body refused to cooperate, his limbs jelly. He feared that he had been damaged worse than he initially realized and thought he might feel the wetness of blood at the side of his head and slowly trickling downward in his hair. “This isn't you,” he wheezed against the constriction of air.  
   
“Infuriatingly stubborn!” Garak tightened his grip until he cut his air off. “Even now? Your very life is in my hands, my true face exposed, and yet you cling to your ridiculous illusions! I could end you without a second thought!” He bared his teeth in a snarl.  
   
His chest started to burn almost immediately. He hadn't had time to take in a large breath.  _Elim,_  he mouthed, managing to reach one hand up to brush clumsily against the tailor's cheek.  
   
Something shattered in the blue eyes. The grip on the doctor's throat instantly eased, and instead of a hand at his throat, he had arms wrapped about him, crushing him against a rough, dirty tunic. The sound that came from Garak was nothing like his strained, almost silent sleep sounds. It was raw and ragged. He curled in on himself, dragging Julian with him.  
   
Swallowing repeatedly in his abused throat, trying to get it working properly again, he wrapped arms that felt too heavy across the broad back, cupping his hand at the back of the man's head. Was he really prepared to forgive him all of this? Could he ever trust him again not to hurt him? He didn't know. What he did know was that while the man was consumed with grief wasn't the time to try to decide such things. No more sounds followed the first. Garak's body convulsed in slow, wracking, silent sobs, just a precious few before he regained enough of his control to be still. “I'm sorry,” he murmured. “I'm so sorry.”  
   
“I know you are,” he rasped. “You need to get me to the infirmary, Love. I don't feel right.” Garak drew back, his eyes widened in alarm. He wasted no time in getting Julian back in his clothing and lifting him in his arms. “My comm badge,” he said, his head lolling. Another wave of nausea roiled through him. Garak laid him gently on the sofa and found it, putting it in place, then lifted him again. He carried him steadily. Julian rested his head against his shoulder. “When we get there...let me do the talking,” he said. “They'll lock you up if you don't.”  
   
“I should be locked up,” he said, his voice thick with self-loathing.  
   
“No,” he shook his head, regretting it and swallowing down his gorge. “At least give me the right to decide, and stop making me talk. I'm going to get sick.” He felt the arms tighten around him, but thankfully, Garak listened to him and said no more.  
   
Luck was with them insofar as Nurse Decla was off duty for the night. The male Bajoran nurse in charge eyed both of them skeptically as Garak entered. He quickly prepped a biobed and began scanning the doctor as soon as he was settled into place. “You have a nasty concussion,” he told him, “and obvious lividity on your throat. What happened?” Even though he addressed Julian, his eyes glared daggers at Garak.  
   
“An accident,” Julian said. “I startled him, and he reacted. Given what he has been through, it's no shock. I should've known better than to approach him from behind and grab his shoulder.”  
   
“You ought to press charges,” the man said, reaching for a dermal regenerator for the bruise.  
   
“For an accident? I think not,” Julian said sharply. “Do your job, and leave security to the security officers.”  
   
“You should stay overnight,” the nurse said. “I don't feel comfortable sending you away until we can deal with that concussion and make certain you don't have any other damage.” He probed expertly at Julian's scalp, finding the cut there and mending it, too. Pushing the doctor's sleeves back, he raised an eyebrow at the darkening bruises there. Julian met his gaze defiantly until he looked away in frustrated disgust.  
   
“Do you want me to stay?” Garak asked in a small voice.  
   
“You shouldn't,” he said gently, reaching for his hand. “I'm fine, and there's no sense in both of us losing sleep here. Go home, take a shower, and try to get some rest. I'll see you in the morning.”  
   
Uncertainty flickered in the blue eyes, but the man nodded, squeezing his hand and letting him go. Julian watched him leave, so full of mixed emotions he had no chance of sorting them out in his current state. He relaxed and allowed the nurse to tend him, knowing better than to give in to the lethargy trying to overwhelm him. He had badly miscalculated the proper way to handle Garak in that situation, and he was aware that luck played a part in the fact that he wasn't now dead. Had his head hit the bulkhead at a different angle, he could have easily broken his neck. A few more seconds with that vise-like hand around his throat, and he wouldn't have been able to hold to consciousness and reach Elim through his frightening rage. Slightly more pressure, and he'd have a collapsed instead of a bruised trachea.  
   
Garak had been right in several things he said. Julian didn't know that side of him, what he was capable of, or what he had done in his past. He had no clue how Cardassians typically handled grief. He should have known that telling him about the sleep episodes would trigger a bad reaction. Garak valued his privacy almost above all else. Why had he provoked him? Why was he now so quick to blame himself? He closed his eyes against the harsh infirmary lights and swallowed back tears. All he had wanted was to comfort him. Why was that so terrible?  
   
The nurse checked on him periodically through the night, his dark eyes shooting contempt and accusation with each visit. He knew what the man thought, that he had allowed himself to be brutalized by the Cardassian and was refusing to report it out of fear or a sense of misplaced loyalty. He didn't expect him to understand when he, himself, hardly understood it.

**Part III**

When morning arrived, he checked himself out very early. He knew he was out of danger now, and he didn't want to run the risk of encountering Nurse Decla. The less she knew of the situation, the better for both of them. He thought of going to Garak's quarters, but he couldn't bring himself to face him, not quite yet. He also rejected his own quarters. It was possible the man could be there waiting for him. Was he still afraid? He had to admit to himself that he was. He needed to talk to someone, see a friendly face. He desperately needed outside perspective. As he ran through the list of everyone he knew, the choice was a simple one. He made his way to Dax's quarters and hesitantly rang the chime. It took a second ring before her sleepy voice came through the comm. “Who's there?”  
   
“It...it's Julian. I...shouldn't have come so early. I'm sorry,” he said, feeling completely idiotic. He should be able to handle his own problems, not go running to someone like a frightened child when something went wrong.  
   
“No, it's OK,” she said, sounding a little more awake. “Come in.” The door opened and he stepped into the darkened quarters. The lights came up suddenly, and Dax padded barefoot from her bedroom in a plain white nightgown that came down to her knees. She covered a yawn. “What's going on?” she asked.  
   
He opened his mouth only to feel his face contort.  _No,_  he thought fiercely,  _don't you dare cry!_  
   
She hurried the rest of the way to him. “Julian?” she said, her brows dipped downward in concern. She cupped his face lightly in both hands. “Tell me.”  
   
“I can't,” he said, shying away from the touch. His eyes stung, and tears dropped heavily over his lower lashes.  
   
“Oh, sweetie,” she said, pulling him into an embrace that he didn't fight. He felt mortified, but her uncomplicated kindness wrung the pain of the past twelve hours from him effortlessly. She held him tightly and gently stroked the back of his head. He felt safer than he had in days, and it hurt all the worse because he knew he shouldn't feel safer with a friend than with the man he loved. Everything was upside down. “You need to tell me,” she said, quietly insistent and pulling back so that she could look at him.  
   
The concerned blue gaze burned him, his shame almost overwhelming. He tried a few times before he could get out, “I had a fight with Garak.”  
   
“I'm sorry,” she said gently, stroking his cheek. “You know, he just went through something really terrible. Maybe he just needs some space. I don't think he'd leave you for good.”  
   
“He didn't leave me,” he said. The understanding dawning in her eyes made him wish that he could crawl into a hole. He had never felt so humiliated in his life. What had possessed him to come to her? “I shouldn't have come here, you know. I really am fine.” He tried to smile, feeling his lips tremble.  
   
“Did he hit you?” she asked, her voice gentle but her eyes hard.  
   
“No, he...not exactly,” he answered, squirming under that gaze.  
   
“What exactly did he do?” she asked. Her grip on him tightened.  
   
Instinctively, he jerked back, eyes wide. That hold felt too much like Garak's. “I..it's nothing, OK? I really shouldn't have come!”  
   
“Julian, listen to me. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Do you understand me? This isn't your fault. Whatever you did or said, he had no right to harm you. Are you all right? Have you gotten checked out at the infirmary?”  
   
He nodded and mumbled, “It was just some bruising.”  
   
She guided him to sit on her sofa and replicated him some tea, putting the mug into his hands. Sitting close beside him on the couch, she said, “Has he ever done anything like this to you before?”  
   
“No,” he said, not lifting his gaze from the reflective surface of his tea. The night they got back together was different, wasn't it? It had to be. He had enjoyed it.  _Only because you wanted him so badly you'd have accepted almost anything if it meant having him inside you._  He closed his eyes.  
   
She rubbed soothingly over his back. “I'm glad you're all right physically,” she said. “You can't...tolerate this, you know?” she asked carefully. “I'm not telling you how to live your life, but things like this...they have a way of becoming a pattern if you're not very careful. Garak can be forceful, even by Cardassian standards. If he's suffering from some sort of imbalance after his ordeal, he could be extremely dangerous. I'm worried about your safety.”  
   
“He took me to the infirmary,” he said. “He felt terrible about what happened. I...I pushed him, Dax. You know how I can be.” He hazarded a glance at her.  
   
She took the tea out of his hands and leaned forward to set it on her coffee table. Straightening, she took both of his hands between hers. “I know that no matter how much you've ever managed to annoy me, I have never once thought about hitting you or harming you for it. The only justification he could ever have for hurting you physically is if you attacked him first. I know you well enough to know you didn't do something like that.”  
   
“Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing with him,” he whispered miserably. “I...keep trying to tell myself that we can make this work and find a way to be happy, but something always happens to get in the way. This loss of his, whatever happened on the raid, has him torn apart. All I want is to be there for him, but he has this stiff Cardassian pride that just... It's as though everything that feels normal, right, and rational to me is anathema to him. I don't know how to handle that. I feel useless, and I wonder if being with me makes him happy at all, or if it's just that he can't stand to be alone.”  
   
She shook her head. “I don't know the answer to that. I do know that you can't stay with someone who abuses you. It's possible this was a one time thing. I'm not suggesting that you ought to pull up stakes and leave him right away, but Julian, if it happens again, even if he just makes you think it's about to happen, you need to get out of there. People get killed by people who supposedly love them all the time.”  
   
“I know,” he said heavily. “As a doctor, it's not as though I've never seen things like this before. I just never thought anything like it would happen to me.”  
   
She squeezed his hand. “Do you want to stay with me a while? I'll be happy to let you, or if you want to talk to Odo...”  
   
“No,” he said. “I'm not...I'm not quite ready to take that step. If I press charges, there's no going back from that. I don't believe this is the real him. I think he's in so much pain and under so much stress that he briefly snapped. I just happened to be a convenient target. You're entirely too kind to offer to let me bunk with you, but you know it would lead to far too many questions,” he said, finally able to offer her a small, genuine smile. “I swear to you I have no intention of letting him abuse me. I'm going to have a long, hard talk with him, and if anything like this does happen again, I'm through with him.” He sounded more certain of that than he felt, but he could only take things one step at a time, he thought.  
   
“I'm really honored you came to me with something so difficult,” she said, leaning in and kissing his cheek. “I promise that nobody is going to hear about this from me. I know I have a reputation as the station gossip, but I can keep my mouth shut when it's important. If you need to talk or you need a safe place to stay, my door is open to you any time.”  
   
“Thank you, Dax,” he said, drawing her into a tight embrace. “You're a good friend. I don't know what I'd do without you.”  
   
“Oh, you'd manage,” she said casually, pulling back to smile at him, “but you wouldn't have nearly as much fun.”  
   
 _Garak  
Garak's Clothiers_  
   
He wasn't surprised that Julian didn't come by that morning. If anything, he'd be surprised if he ever had anything to do with him again after the terrible things he had said and done to him the night before. It was as though the old Elim, the one Tain took so much pride in, resurfaced for one final hurrah before lying down and staying buried. Shame didn't begin to cover what he felt for what he had done.  
   
The shop was finally starting to look like it might be usable again. He had managed to clean away the soot and debris. He wouldn't be able to replace the glass himself, and he had more clothing racks on order. He was about to go through the bolts in the back to see if anything was salvageable when Lieutenant Dax strode through the open doors. “Lieutenant,” he started to say, only to find himself backed straight into his broken counter and bent back forcefully, a hard forearm tight against his throat.  
   
“Garak,” Dax said, her voice thrumming with fury, “I'm very sorry for your losses. By the way, if you ever lay so much as a finger on Julian with the intent to hurt him again, you'll be wishing that Odo had gotten to you first, because I'll shove you straight out an airlock, and I won't particularly care if you're still breathing right before it happens or not.”  
   
He lay very still beneath the press, even though he could have thrown her off of him had he chosen. It hurt him to think of Julian having to go to the Trill because he was too frightened and confused to come to him. However, he was grateful he had such a good friend to comfort him and come to his defense. “I assure you, Lieutenant, I will never harm him again.”  
   
“You'd better not,” she said through gritted teeth, drawing back and pulling him straight with her fists balled in his tunic. She smoothed it back down and eyed him speculatively. “Are you getting help?” she asked.  
   
“Help?” he asked, confused.  
   
“Yes, help,” she said as though he were a particularly stupid child. “For your grief. Clearly, you aren't doing a good job managing it on your own. I suggest you find somebody to talk to professionally. If you can't bring yourself to do that, then open up to Julian. The only reason I didn't march straight into Odo's office to have you hauled in the moment Julian left my quarters this morning is because I know you've been through hell, and I want to give you the benefit of the doubt for Julian's sake.”  
   
He dropped his gaze to the floor and nodded. She was right. He had lost control precisely because he was trying too hard to hold onto himself alone. If he didn't start doing something constructive to relieve that pressure, he'd explode again despite the best of intentions.  
   
“You're nodding. Does that mean you intend to do what I said?” she asked.  
   
“Yes,” he clarified. “I'll do as you've asked, assuming Julian ever wants to speak to me again.”  
   
She frowned. “I have to admit there's a part of me that wants to let you wonder that,” she said. “You deserve it, but it won't help anything. He loves you, and he still wants to be with you. I'm more than a little terrified that he'd let you do something like whatever you did to him again and still stay with you.”  
   
“He...didn't tell you specifically?” That surprised him.  
   
“No,” she said, her eyes narrowed. “If you're smart, you won't tell me, either. I'm too angry with you right now to be sure I'd control myself.”  
   
He nodded. “I appreciate your candor and your self-control. I'm...sorry.”  
   
“I'm not the one you need to say that to,” she said, turning then and leaving him.  
   
He rubbed absently at his throat, wishing halfheartedly that she had taken it further. It was the least of what he deserved. He knew that he'd have to be the one to go to Julian. It wasn't fair to expect him to come to him. He determined that as soon as the doctor got off work and got settled in his quarters, he'd do just that.  
   
When the time came, it wasn't so easy to follow through. He paced his own quarters nervously, wondering if he should take some sort of gift and then rejecting the idea as seeming superficial.  _I'm sorry I almost killed you. Have some flowers._  He grunted in self disgust. Palandine's husband had been a selfish brute. On more than one occasion he saw telltale bruises on the woman he had never imagined would tolerate such treatment from anyone. He recalled how helpless and furious he felt when she made excuses. Had Julian made excuses for him to Dax? What right did he have to beg forgiveness?  
   
“Stop being a coward,” he growled and stalked from his quarters. He had no right to expect anything at all from the doctor. He did, however, owe him a sincere apology. Whatever happened as a result of it was entirely up to Julian. He'd abide by any decision he made.  
   
His hand trembled slightly when he lifted it to ring the chime. The, “Enter,” that greeted him sounded tense. He stepped into the quarters and found Julian seated at his dining table in such a way that the width of the table buffered him from anyone at the door. He was still in uniform and had his hands clasped loosely together on the table top. The grip tightened when he looked at Garak. “Sit down,” he told the tailor, nodding at the seat opposite him.  
   
Garak did so, his mouth feeling dry. “How did work go today?” he asked tentatively.  
   
“No,” the doctor said. “We're not going to do that. We're not going to sit here and make small talk until we can work up to what we need to talk about. What you did to me is completely unacceptable.”  
   
“I know,” he breathed. “And I...”  
   
“You'll get to say whatever you want to say when I'm done,” Julian pressed on with a brittle tone to his voice. “You claimed that you've made all manner of compromises in this relationship to shelter me from the reality that's you. Well, I'm asking you right here and now to tell me the truth. Is the reality that you're someone who is going to physically assault me whenever I say or do something you find unacceptable?”  
   
“No,” Garak said, having to fight to keep his voice steady.  
   
“You didn't just assault me. You stripped me. If we're both being honest, we know it's not the first time you intended to take rage out on me sexually. Am I going to have to guard against that one day, being raped by someone I'd normally give myself to willingly? Is that normal, accepted Cardassian behavior, to take advantage of a physically weaker mate and use them any way you see fit?”  
   
“No,” Garak breathed, his gaze settling on the white knuckled grip of the man's hands, clenched together like a snared bird's feet.  
   
“To which question?” Julian snapped.  
   
“To both,” he said. “It's reprehensible.”  
   
The slender man pushed back from the table and stood, turning his side to Garak and staring off toward the back of his quarters. “I'm not interested in your lip service to values you don't share.”  
   
“I don't understand what you mean,” he said, for the first time having some appreciation for how some of his interrogation subjects must have felt in his presence. This was a side of Julian he had never seen, and he was positively terrified that he had already lost him for good.  
   
“Please,” the doctor scoffed, shooting him a skeptical side glance. “If you believed what you were saying, that treating me that way is reprehensible, you wouldn't have done it, either time it has happened.”  
   
“You said you were OK with that night,” he pointed out, feeling a small surge of resentment.  
   
“That was my mistake,” Julian retorted, nodding. “And I'll accept that much responsibility for what happened last night. I gave you the impression that I'm willing to tolerate abuse just for the privilege of being your lover and that I'll crawl back begging for more.” He suddenly wheeled on him, fury and pain flaring in his eyes. “I'm not! I have tried my best to tread on eggshells when it comes to matters of your pride and privacy, and no, you never asked me to. You never had to! I was willing to do it because I love you and want to make you happy. I'm not willing to be your...your punching bag! And I'm not willing to let you shove me away whenever you feel like it just because letting me be there hurts your pride.  
   
“You're physically stronger than I am. You're a better hand to hand fighter than I am. There's a definite inequity there, but if you think for one instant that makes us anything less than equal in this relationship, then you had best think again! If you ever lay a hand on me in anger again, even once,” he said, visibly shaking, “we're through, and I will...by God, I will have you arrested, no matter how embarrassing or mortifying it is for me!”  
   
“As you should,” Garak said, exhaling heavily. He quieted to be sure that Julian didn't have more to say. When he was fairly sure that he was done, he said, “I know that 'I'm sorry' rings hollow in the face of the sort of betrayal I dealt you last night. I could try to explain my state of mind; however, even that sounds more like making excuses, as it's no justification.  
   
“I am sorry. I'm willing to do what it takes to work to earn back the trust I've destroyed. You have my word that I will never attack you again. I won't hold it against you if you greet that announcement with skepticism. Just tell me what you need, and I'll do it.”  
   
“Right now I need space,” he said, folding his arms tightly over his chest. “I thought I'd be OK being alone with you, but the truth is that I'm not. I know things are bad for you right now. I want you to get some help for that. I'm not calling things off or leaving you. I'd tell you if I were.”  
   
“I understand,” he said, nodding. He wanted to tell him that he loved him but held his tongue, afraid that it would sound manipulative under the circumstances. “I'll let you be the one to decide when and how we see each other until you tell me you're ready for me to start asserting my preferences again, as long as you understand that you're not hearing from me not because I'm shutting you out, but because you've asked me to do this.”  
   
Julian nodded. “Thank you, Elim,” he said. “Unless you have anything else you'd like to say, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave. We can have lunch together tomorrow at the Replimat.”  
   
“I'd like that,” Garak said, standing. He hated that Julian took a step back just from such an innocuous move. For all that he had cautioned the doctor against trusting him through the years, he had never meant to imply that he should expect random attacks. His self-loathing dug in deeper. Not even someone like Dukat was such a graceless thug. He paused at the door. “I wouldn't blame you if you did leave me,” he said.  
   
“I have no intention of making it that easy for you,” the doctor replied, the expression in his eyes ambivalent.  
   
Unsure of exactly how to take that, he let himself out. It was ironic that now that he had what he thought he wanted, to be left alone in his grief and confusion, he didn't want it at all. They told him to get help. Who did they think could help him? No one on the station understood Cardassian psychology. He couldn't very well place a call back to Prime and make a long distance appointment to talk about the destruction of the entire Obsidian Order and the death of a man no one but he and Mila knew was his father. What was he to do?  
   
He couldn't face his quarters with the sting of Julian's hard words still in his ears. He had already cleaned blood from the bulkhead. He shuddered from the memory of it and the emotion that had driven him to such violence to begin with. Ask anyone in the quadrant what word came to mind at the mention of Cardassians, and most would say 'cruel' he knew. It wasn't an undeserved reputation. The meekest and kindest of his race could turn vicious when cornered. No one would ever describe him as meek or kind in the first place.  
   
He had learned all he ever needed to know of violence, implacability, tenacity, and yes, cruelty at the knee of a man who rarely deigned to acknowledge him unless he displayed the worst of his tendencies with enthusiasm. Cardassian society didn't reward emotional displays, sentiment, or weakness. Cardassia Prime itself was a harsh planet that demanded resourcefulness and boldness of its sentient population if they wanted to survive. Survival was something at which he excelled, living, not so much.  
   
He let himself into his shop and retreated to his stock room. A few bolts of cloth had survived the explosion unscorched and didn't reek of smoke. He drew one down, a dark green fabric, and laid it out on his cutting table. He lifted a pair of scissors, stretched out a flat length of fabric and began to cut. The scissors slid smoothly, making a sound he found pleasing. Clean lines, uncomplicated patterns, these things made sense to his incredibly structured brain. Strip after strip furrowed and fell unheeded to the floor.  
   
He didn't know how much time had passed when a hand on his shoulder brought him back to himself. He turned to see Odo then looked down at the appallingly large pile of useless fabric strips. “Branching into Dabo girl costumes?” the changeling asked dryly.  
   
He snorted very softly. “I believe these would be more revealing than even they would care to try,” he said.  
   
“I saw your light,” Odo explained. “It's very late.”  
   
Garak nodded, setting the scissors aside. “I didn't realize.”  
   
“Will you be going home soon?” he asked abruptly.  
   
Garak shook his head and bent to gather the scraps to throw them into the recycler. “No, Constable. There were few things on Cardassia more dangerous than incurring Tain's ire. I wasn't the only one held in check by that fact.” As he dumped the strips he added lightly, “I don't belong there anymore, anyway.”  
   
“Not even as a civilian tailor?” Odo asked.  
   
Garak laughed bitterly. “Especially not as that.”  
   
The changeling studied him thoughtfully. “I know you tried to protect me,” he said. “At first I thought that you wanted to go home so badly that you were blinded by Tain, but the more that I've considered it, the more I believe you were trying to protect him, too. Cardassia could use more people like you, not fewer.”  
   
“I'm sure you meant that as a compliment. You'll have to forgive me if I can't take it as such,” Garak said, frowning. “This place is poisonous.” He gestured to include the entire station. “It has you feeling that you don't belong with your people, and it has made it to where I truly don't belong with mine, yet neither of us belong  _here._ You've never given them a reason not to trust you, but most of them don't. I've never given them much reason to trust me, but even if I did, they wouldn't.”  
   
“If they did, would you be able to handle it?” he asked.  
   
“You're all kinds of amusing tonight, Constable,” he said.  
   
“I don't know what to do for you,” Odo said bluntly.  
   
“You're so certain something is necessary?” he asked, tilting his head and offering him one of his blandest smiles.  
   
“More certain with each passing moment,” the changeling said.  
   
“If I knew, I'd tell you.” He dropped the pretense. He didn't have the energy for it, and he wasn't in any mood to play games. “The Starfleeters seem to think if I sit down and tell a stranger about where it hurts, I'll be fine.”  
   
“Hmph,” Odo said, seeming to find that as ridiculous as Garak did. “They really can be blind at times. Can't you talk to the doctor?”  
   
He shook his head. “No.”  
   
“You'll forgive me for saying it, but I don't understand relationships,” Odo said.  
   
Garak laughed, genuinely amused. “I don't either. As it turns out, I'm not very good at them. I was better at being alone.”  
   
“Why not go back to it?” he asked.  
   
“Relationships have a tendency to spoil the joys of solitude. I don't pretend to understand how that works.”  
   
“Why stay with someone you can't even talk to?” Odo persisted. “If he's not willing to be supportive...”  
   
Garak held up a hand. “This isn't his fault. It's entirely mine. I don't want to go into it, but I don't want you thinking ill of the doctor. No, he's very supportive. It's...difficult for me to accept that.”  
   
Odo nodded slowly. “I understand that,” he said. “It's not easy for me to accept help, either. I'm coming to understand that sometimes you have to let them be supportive even when you don't want it. It makes them feel better, and it's not...unpleasant...to know that someone is there for you, whether you actually need it or not.”  
   
“It sounds as though you understand more than you let on,” Garak said, surprised.  
   
“I am observant,” the changeling said with what may have been a humorous undertone.  
   
“You'll get no arguments from me,” he said. “You know, talking to a stranger wouldn't help at all, but speaking with you has. Thank you, Constable.” He inclined his head.  
   
Looking slightly surprised, Odo returned the gesture. He glanced around the stock room and over his shoulder. “You've cleaned this place up nicely. Does that mean you'll be reopening?”  
   
He nodded. “Yes, I will be. You've seen the Bajorans. They need me, now more than ever with that Kai of theirs and her atrocious hats.”  
   
Odo chuckled in a rare display of genuine amusement. “Perhaps one day I'll sample what it feels like actually to wear something.”  
   
“Any time,” Garak said, smiling. “I'm at your disposal.”  
   
“We'll see,” he said. “I should get back to patrol, and you should at least try to get some rest. Things...sometimes look better when you're not tired.”  
   
“Very true,” Garak agreed. “I'll walk you out.”  
   
 _Julian  
The Infirmary_  
   
Four days. It had only been four days since he laid down his boundaries, and already he missed the tailor's company at night. For his part, Garak couldn't have been more cooperative and pleasant. It bothered him to think of how much the man was hiding from him for his sake, to honor his request. He couldn't hide away from Garak forever. He had to either make the decision to trust him when he said he'd never hurt him again or decide that he could never trust that and move on. It wasn't fair to either of them to hover at a distance and wait for things to feel perfect.  
   
The flu outbreak was on a natural decline, and activity in the infirmary had dropped back to normal levels. He felt confident that if he left a half hour early for lunch, it wouldn't put undue stress on the staff. He walked down the short distance to Garak's shop only to find him setting up new racks. They looked strangely sculptural with nothing displayed upon them, like a modern gallery exhibit.  
   
“Hello, Doctor,” Garak greeted him amiably. “You're early.”  
   
“I know,” Julian said, closing the distance between them. “I miss you.”  
   
Garak anchored one of the protruding “arms” in the central post of the rack and straightened, eying Julian cautiously. “I miss you, too,” he said. “Are you sure you want...”  
   
He nodded, taking both of his hands in a warm press. “I am. It's probably a form of insanity, but I am.”  
   
“Then I have something to tell you,” the tailor said.  
   
Something about the look in his eyes when he said it stilled Julian outwardly but made his heart start to race. “What is it?” he asked, his turn for caution.  
   
“I love you.”  
   
He inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly. “Just...just like that? No qualifiers, no buts...”  
   
“Just like that,” Garak said.  
   
“Elim,” he said softly, “take me home. Right now.” And he did, just like that.


End file.
